


Guess He Needs You

by stardustlupin



Series: Hold Me Tight [2]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Crack Treated Seriously, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cutagens | Cute Effects of Mutagens (The Witcher), Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Kaer Morhen's Fanon Hot Springs (The Witcher), M/M, Multi, Papa Vesemir, Platonic Cuddling, Purring Witchers (The Witcher), Soft Aiden (The Witcher), Soft Eskel (The Witcher), Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Soft Lambert (The Witcher), Soft Vesemir (The Witcher), Soft Witchers (The Witcher), Winter At Kaer Morhen, the relationship between Vesemir and Lambert (and everyone else) is completely platonic/paternal, title from a britney spears song
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:22:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28457514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardustlupin/pseuds/stardustlupin
Summary: The Vesemir Probelm, or so he had been calling it since last winter, was still playing on Aiden’s mind when summer greens began their turn to autumn ambers, reds, and browns. He brought it  up constantly, and always, it seemed to Lambert, at the most inopportune moments; like while they were the were battling a wyvern, or Lambert was losing at gwent, (or when Aiden was balls deep in Lambert after having won,) or now; when Lambert’s head rested on Aiden’s lap, the Cat carding through his soft, freshly washed hair, silk-like inky black rivers running between his fingers.Or, The Vesemir Problem( or so Aiden had been calling it ): All last winter Aiden had to watch a curious shade of blue pass across Lambert's face whenever the oldest Wolf walked away. This year he's determined to find out why, and do his damnedest to fix it.
Relationships: (referenced), Aiden & Lambert & Vesemir (The Witcher), Aiden/Eskel (The Witcher), Aiden/Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Lambert, Aiden/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Aiden/Lambert (The Witcher), Guxart/Vesemir (The Witcher), Lambert & Vesemir (The Witcher)
Series: Hold Me Tight [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1998151
Comments: 19
Kudos: 156





	Guess He Needs You

The Vesemir Probelm, or so he had been calling it since last winter, was still playing on Aiden’s mind when summer greens began their turn to autumn ambers, reds, and browns. He brought it up constantly, and always, it seemed to Lambert, at the most inopportune moments; like while they were battling a wyvern, or Lambert was losing at gwent, (or when Aiden was balls deep in Lambert after having won,) or now; when Lambert’s head rested on Aiden’s lap, the Cat carding through his soft, freshly washed hair, silk-like inky black rivers running between his fingers. 

“Just _tell me_ ,” he demanded — whined — yet again, and Lambert growled, as he always did, frustrated at having his dream-haze so cruelly dissipated. He didn’t have to ask; _why doesn’t he like me? what can I do?_

“Fuck, _Aiden_ . Can you just drop it?” It was Lambert’s own fault, really, for telling him that Vesemir wasn’t usually so… distant, during winter. Not like he _had_ to say anything for Aiden to know. The Cat had caught him staring forlornly after the old Wolf more than once as he left them — after dinner, after training, when they entered the baths. Bear Wolf and Wolf Wolf didn’t seem so put out by it, but _Baby_ Wolf, well… He looked downright blue. 

“Just give me something — _anything_.” Lambert glared up at him. “Please Baby Wolf?” he pleaded, letting his eyes go puppy wide, his pupils dilated to big, round saucers; Aiden was a quick study, apparently.

Lambert clenched and unclenched his jaw repeatedly, eyes fixed on the bare torso in front of him as the flash of some personal battle raged in his mind. Another time, he would have appreciated the musculature of his Cat’s body, his skin not hairless, but smoother than his own, and softer now than it was last year thanks to the beeswax soap he’d insisted on appropriating from Kaer Morhen’s supply. Lambert wanted to sink his teeth into it, so did. Hard. Aiden yowled and, more than a little smug, Lambert lapped his tongue over the mark he’d made. “He likes white port and ice wine,” He finally offered. “Doesn’t get much of it these days.” 

Right. Wine. So it wasn’t _exactly_ the sort of information Aiden was after, but it was a lot more than he’d gotten so far. “We could go to Toussaint. Pick some up.”

“We won’t make it back in time if we go that far south now. Besides, you really want to lug bottles of wine all the way from fucking Toussaint to the Blue Mountains?”

Aiden gently pushed Lambert’s head back to lay on his thigh, resuming his petting absentmindedly as he considered. “I know someone in the area who owes me a favour. We can portal back.” _Back —_ because that’s what it was now, wasn’t it? A going back, a return.

“Fucking mages…” Lambert grumbled, further protestation dissolving on his tongue as Aiden scratched the base of his hairline, ripples of pleasure cresting in his skull. 

.o.O.o.

Ultimately the draw of prolonged warmth and good booze proved too strong, and they did make their way to Toussaint. As luck would have it, almost as soon as they hit wine-country, they stumbled across a vintner in the midst of a sort of war with the proprietor of the vineyard next to his. Truly, a lighthearted affair, he promised, but _witchers_ would be so much more adept at enacting the next stage of his battle plan.

Thievery. Is what it was. Specific vintages that his rival held dear to his heart. “I’m not going to do anything untoward with them,” he — Bolius— insisted with an absent wave of his hand. “I just want to see his embarrassment when he goes to show them off at his next party and finds them missing.”

So that’s how they ended up in the cellars of Corvo Bianco. Witchers, you see, traditionally don’t get involved in matters of politic, so to even out the playing field they thought it best to relieve Bolius of a few of his own bottles. Never mind that they were some of Vesemir’s favourites. _That_ was pure coincidence. Luck. _Destiny_. 

And, as Destiny would have it, Destiny was right where Aiden said she would be. In her not exactly little cottage at the top of a wooded hill. “Destiny,” he crowed, giving the brunette a kiss on the cheek.

“Long time no see Kitty Cat.” She smiled at him warmly, but there was, perhaps, a glint of fire in her eyes. Much too heated for Lambert’s liking. Transferring all his packs to one arm, the bottles clinking, he threw the other one around Aiden’s neck. 

“Going to introduce us?” he asked in his most sultry croon. Aiden smirked.

“Destiny this is Ba-haa-Lambert. This is Lambert. Lambert this is Destiny, an _old_ friend of mine,” he said with a wink in her direction. 

“How old’s old?” Lambert asked, eyeing her derisively. 

“I was never at Stygga, if that’s what has you looking like there’s a slug in your mouth. I saved his life, his first year on the Path. Got conked on the head by an ogre.”

A shockingly familiar story. He raised an eyebrow at Aiden, who only shrugged in response; _life’s funny that way._ “Why’d he say you owe him then?”

“Ah, well you see darling,” Aiden expounded, “a long time ago Destiny had an evil cat —“

“Jad is not—”

“ _Evil, vile little shit,_ who nearly took my eye out.”

“What?” Lambert sputtered, “you got that scar from a _cat_?” he asked incredulously, gesturing to the rather roguish dash across Aiden’s left eye. 

“A _demon_ cat,” he corrected. 

“Oh, you kept the damn eye didn’t you?” Destiny rolled her eyes.

It was too soon for them to go back to Kaer Morhen — show up this early and Vesemir would send them right back down for supplies — so they stayed a couple weeks, Destiny proving to be a more generous host than Lambert would have ever expected. They soaked up the Toussainti sun, enjoying the last good weather they’d get for months. Aiden insisted on visiting the markets, and strolling through the vineyards. Kept going on about how nice it would be to retire there some day, like that’s a thing witchers did. But he looked so cute when he talked about it — his cheeks flushed a deep, cherry blossom pink, the edges of his old Toussainti purr creeping back into his voice. So Lambert just smiled, and nodded, and held Aiden’s hand as he let himself be dragged around. 

By the time they portaled home, Lambert almost half believed in Aiden’s fantasies. 

.o.O.o.

They’re the first ones back, so there was no snuffling and deep, wolfy kisses when they arrived. Vesemir raised an eyebrow at their sudden appearance, and there was the vague aura of disapproval when they explained how they got there, but for the most part, he said nothing. Not even when Aiden handed him a bottle each of white port and ice wine. There was only the pressing of his lips to a straight line, and a curt nod before he walked away. 

He didn’t join them for dinner, or any other meals. Every morning he told Lambert what needed to be done and then disappeared into his tower, and every time he went, Aiden had to watch the curious shade of blue pass across Baby Wolf’s face. He couldn’t make sense of it, couldn’t reconcile what he was seeing with the constant snark and vitriol with which Lambert so often talked about and to Old Wolf. Probably best to ask Bear Wolf or Wolf Wolf about it, whenever they decided to grace them with their presences. For now all Aiden could do was keep Lambert as occupied as possible — not that it was _difficult,_ all he had to do was — never mind. 

Point is, endearing himself to Old Wolf could wait. 

.o.O.o.

“Other two should be here soon,” came the gruff voice from the doorway of Lambert’s room. Done with work for the day, the younger witchers were lazing around by the fire, Aiden reading from a book he’d found in Eskel’s room and petting Baby Wolf’s hair where his head lay on his thigh. “Saw them near the trailhead.” 

Lambert opened his mouth to speak but Old Wolf was already gone.

“So that’s what? Three? Four hours?” 

“Yeah, something like that,” Lambert said, closing his eyes and nuzzling close to Aiden’s stomach. “They’ll probably want a bath first thing.”

Made perfect sense. Seemed to go without saying, really. “What’s that got to do with us?” Aiden asked, a small, confused frown creasing his brow.

Baby Wolf turned warm in his lap, and a fine shade of pink dusted his cheeks. “Nothing,” he mumbled, and pressed into Aiden to put an end to the conversation. 

‘Nothing’ turned out to be a gross understatement. Lambert and Aiden went down to the courtyard to greet them — as was only polite — and Bear Wolf and Wolf Wolf set on them immediately, licking inside their mouths (some sort of health check, apparently) and pawing at them unashamedly. 

“Missed you,” Geralt _growled_ when he was done with his assessment. But he hadn’t pulled away; his arms were around Aiden’s waist, his nose trailing the side of Aiden’s neck.

“I’m Aiden,” Aiden said simply, thinking perhaps the mix of his and Baby Wolf’s scents was confusing the other man.

To further Aiden’s confusion, Geralt smiled — a wolfy, upward quirk of the lips. “I can see that.”

Before he could comment or question further, he was passed to Bear Wolf for much the same treatment while Lambert and Geralt got reacquainted.

“We should go for a bath.” Eskel’s voice rumbled against Aiden’s ear as he, like Geralt held on to the Cat. 

“Lambert and I already bathed.”

“Yeah but you’re all dirty again,” Bear Wolf insisted, swiping Aiden’s nose with a smudged finger. He could _smell_ Baby Wolf blushing.

“Am I missing something?” he trilled, looking around for answers. 

“It’s tradition,” Baby Wolf mumbled.

“What? Bathing? We didn’t do it last year,” Aiden pointed out.

“We didn’t know you last year,” Bear Wolf returned, turning Aiden around by the shoulders and marching him inside behind the other two. 

So for the second time that day, Aiden found himself in the hot springs, but unlike the first time, well —

“What are you doing?” He asked, his voice not at all pitched with sheer mortification at the feel of Geralt’s hands on his skin, under his shirt, pushing it up. They stilled immediately.

“He didn’t explain.” 

_Obviously not Geralt._ “Explain _what_?” He turned back, searching for Baby Wolf, who had, apparently, already been stripped naked and was waiting patiently by Eskel as Bear Wolf washed himself. He pointedly looked off to the side, and though the warmth of his embarrassment mixed in smoothly with that of the springs, Aiden caught it anyway. 

Geralt’s grip on Aiden’s waist tightened only slightly as he pulled him forward, so as to speak softly on his ear. “Usually, when we return, Eskel and I give Lambert a bath. Since the two of you are so close we assumed—”

“Oh.”

“Mm.”

Turning back again, he saw that Baby Wolf had turned a concerning, truly unwitchery, violent shade of red, and his scent was fast teetering over the border from ‘mildly amusing’ to ‘curdled milk’. “Have at it then,” Aiden said, lifting up his arms to facilitate the proceedings.

Wolf Wolf smiled almost coyly, once again pushing at his shirt before abruptly stopping again. “We don’t have to,” he said earnestly, looking at Aiden with wide, sad eyes. Aiden hooked an eyebrow, and the other man continued his little ritual with a dopey half-smile on his ridiculous face. 

Still, Baby Wolf wouldn’t look at him when they got into the water, his eyes fixed resolutely on the craggy ceiling, or the wall, or nothing, as Bear Wolf soaped him down from the top of his brow to the souls of his feet. Like his lover before him, Aiden waited patiently for his turn while Geralt carried out his ablutions, trying his best to act appropriately. Thankfully, he didn’t have to wait too long, Wolf Wolf himself seeming rather eager to get on with it (Aiden tried not to read too much into that — he was just being supportive after all).

Despite Aiden’s earlier bath, the Wolf was surprisingly thorough, running soapy hands all over his body; down his legs, between his toes, he pulled Aiden over to the steps skirting the pool, looking at him questioningly before continuing. Aiden nodded and Wolf Wolf pulled him onto his lap, washing the length of his arms and under, his pretty face, his lean torso, the curves of his back; down and down and in between his —

Aiden jumped. “Sorry,” Geralt mumbled, the very tips of his ears turning a fine shade of pink. “Got carried away.” 

Aiden could sense the tension in Baby Wolf’s body, and that smell like sour milk was back and growing fast. “It’s fine,” he said, clumsily kissing Geralt on the lips to prove his point. “Really.” The pink in Wolf Wolf’s skin spread almost to his cheeks, and he licked his lips, but otherwise said no more.

Once he was finished, he shifted them ‘ to sit closer to the other two. Baby Wolf was sat in Bear Wolf’s lap, and while the scent of his stress had dissipated, he was still tense and his face was turned away. Aiden reached over, massaging his shoulder insistently, and tugged lightly at his hair when that didn’t work. His baby wolf finally turned to look at him, sheepishly soft. “Hi,” Aiden, in a voice low enough to not disturbed the strange sort of soft, gauzy mist that had settled on them all. 

“Hi.” Baby Wolf whispered, and laid against Eskel’s chest again, and took Aiden’s hand with a small squeeze. 

.o.O.o.

It was easier after that; with Bear Wolf and Wolf Wolf there to keep Lamb occupied, the Cat could get back to his foxing.

He pulled out all the stops: bringing out more fine wines after dinner so Vesemir wouldn’t run through his so quickly, working extra hard during training and chores, he even dove into the recesses of his mind for recipes from his long ago childhood; he made kofta and hummus, nutty salads with pomegranate seeds. _He made baklava_ and _still_ Old Wolf remained reticent. He ate the food, he took goblets of wine back up to his rooms, but he wouldn’t stay. 

One night, Aiden woke up and his baby wolf wasn’t there. Carefully extricating himself from Bear Wolf’s and Wolf Wolf’s hold, he followed his scent to Old Wolf’s door. It was open, his lover standing just outside the patch of candlelight and the other hidden from view. He couldn’t hear what was being said, but he could tell — from his tone, his posture, the jerky way he moved his hands — that Lambert was angry.

“Lamb?” he called, still yards away. His voice was small in the dark and he wrapped his arms around himself in a vain attempt to stave off the cold. “What’s going on?”

Lambert was at his side in an instant. “Nothing,” he said, steering Aiden around and back to the warmth of Geralt’s room by the elbow. “Let’s go back to bed.” The burnt smell of anger was still rolling off of him, but it abated when Aiden sweetly kissed his jaw. 

Aiden was _so close_ to dipping into the Zerrikanian chocolate he’d been saving for Yule when Bear Wolf informed him his tactics wouldn’t work at all. “It’s not going to work you know.” Winter had settled it’s thick icy white blanket over the mountains, and it was Lambert’s and Geralt’s turn to brave the frozen world outside for more meat and firewood. Eskel and Aiden were lounging in the former’s room, toasty enough that they needed only wear braes. They were both reading, with Aiden laying down on Eskel’s lap and Eskel rubbing his stomach, his hand tucked into the waistband. 

“What won’t?” Aiden asked absently.

“Whatever you’re trying with Vesemir, it won’t work.”

“Oh come now. He can’t hate me for being a Cat forever. Not to put too fine a point on it, but I’ve heard rumours about him and Guxart.”

Eskel chuckled, and Aiden most certainly did not tilt closer to feel it better. “We’ve all heard those rumours. Even found Cat hair in the furs when we’ve come back too early. He doesn’t hate you because of your school.”

“So what gives then?”

He hummed as he contemplated his answer, stroking up and down Aiden’s torso before settling again at the soft flesh right between his hips. “Vesemir and Lambert are closer than you think,” he started. “It took awhile for Lamb to warm up to Geralt and me. In the beginning, after everything— I don’t know exactly. Lambert was angry and lonely, Vesemir was guilty and lonely. They kept each other warm I guess,” he finished with a shrug.

“They don’t—” Aiden asked, his brow furrowed as he made a vague gesture with his hands.

“Gods no,” Eskel said quickly.

Aiden couldn’t help be relieved.

At some point, Bear Wolf’s hand had shifted to comb through Aiden’s hair, but his fingers stopped when his words did. The Cat reached up to tap the other man’s hand, purring contentedly when the petting resumed. The petting helped him focus, you see, as he mulled over these freshly revealed details, and readjusted his plans under new light.

.o.O.o.

It took days before Aiden figured out what to say to Old Wolf. Of course, when it came down to it, all he managed was, “Stop being a dick.” _Shit._

“Excuse me?” Vesemir blinked at him, rightly flabbergasted at having a houseguest he didn’t much care for come to his room in the middle of the night and not only imply that he _has_ been a dick, but also _order_ him to stop. 

_Probably best to just roll with it._ “You heard me.” Aiden awkwardly shifted his weight as he persisted. “Stop being a dick.”

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to be more specific.”

“Lambert misses you,” he said bluntly, being very specific indeed. “I don’t know what you’re hang up is, because it’s clearly not that I’m a Cat — Gux sends his best by the way — so you’re just going to have to get over yourself and stop being all weird and mopey and distant.”

Vesemir said nothing, considering, with, open-mouthed wonder, the audacious Cat standing at his doorway. “Why don’t you come inside?” he landed on eventually, further opening his door to make way. Now Aiden looked perplexed, opening and closing his mouth like a fish on the chopping board before deciding it was best not to question it. 

The first of Vesemir’s room was an office. He gestured to the chair across his desk and sat down behind it himself. Aiden took his seat, and he waited. 

The old Wolf was, by all accounts noble in the way he carried himself. A hair’s breadth shorter than Geralt and Eskel, but just as broad as the former. His body was still well toned from the toil of maintaining his Keep, and he carried himself with the upright posture befitting his station. Usually. Now he slumped forward — deflated, his head in his hands. “I don’t understand him,” he said, soft enough that Aiden wasn’t sure if he was being spoken too. “He should hate me — he _does_ hate me. I’m the last person he should come to looking for comfort—”

“But he does.”

Vesemir met his eyes then, appraising him warily. “It got less as he became closer to Eskel and Geralt. With you here I thought he wouldn’t want—”

“But he _does,_ ” Aiden said again. Old Wolf just kept looking at him, entirely, hopelessly lost. “Look, just, stop pushing him away alright? I hate seeing him so sad.” He waited for Vesemir to agree — a singular. uncertain nod would have to do — and he went back to his baby wolf.

.o.O.o.

Now, it’s no secret that Aiden absolutely _detested_ sharing, but there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do to make Lambert happy. So when they broke out the good (fortified) wine after dinner the following night, he insisted that Old Wolf had to stick around if he wanted some. Evidently a few glasses was excuse enough for him to reach over and scratch the base of Baby Wolf’s hairline. Aiden almost purred purely at the sight of his lover going so soft; his eyelashes fluttering, and his gentle sigh of relief.

Night’s passed like this, and eventually it was Yule. When Lambert and Aiden arrived in the sitting room that morning — to exchange a few small gifts and loll around with mulled wine and cider — Vesemir was already there, casually reading on an armchair, a soft blanket draped over the arm.

“Go on,” Aiden whispered, nudging the other man encouragingly. Lambert kissed him for courage and sauntered up to the old man. 

“So,” he drawled, snatching Old Wolf’s mug from the side table and taking a long draw. Aiden could hear his heart hammering in his chest from the entryway. “Miss me?”

Vesemir put his book down, and looked at Baby Wolf dead in the eyes. “Of course.” Lambert scoffed. Vesemir gently pulled him onto his lap. “Of course I miss you,” he said, his hands on either side of Lambert’s face, combing his hair behind his ears. The smaller man bit his lip hesitantly, looking away, and Papa Wolf guided his head to rest on his shoulder. “I missed you very much,” he whispered, so soft Aiden almost didn’t hear, as he wrapped Baby Wolf in the fur and his arms. 

Aiden smiled at the thrilled, contented purring pouring out from Lambert’s chest, soon joined by a much deeper one akin to the low rumbling of faraway rainclouds. 

With nothing to do, and starting to feel a little odd just… being there, the Cat considered going back upstairs for the time being. But then two, warm, thick arms wrapped around his waist, and he was pulled against an even warmer, thicker chest. “You did good Kitty,” Wolf Wolf purred in his ear. Eskel walked past them to put down their messily wrapped packages (an equal number labelled _Lambert_ and _Aiden_ oddly enough) but quickly returned, soundly lifting Aiden up from under his arms.

“I’m a grown man,” Aiden grumbled derisively, frowning, but sheer incredulity making him forget to struggle.

“So’s Lamb,” Eskel pointed out, which, Aiden supposed was true enough, though sometimes he wasn’t so sure.

At any rate, he was settled on the furs by the fire, in between the two largest Wolves. Bear Wolf massaged Aiden’s thigh with one of those broad, meaty hands, and Wolf Wolf leaned over to kiss and lick between his eyebrows.

“Did Lambert tell you to do that,” Aiden asked almost breathlessly, failing to sound appropriately outraged as he tried to keep from groaning.

“He did,” Wolf Wolf replied, the smirk evident in his voice.

_Bastards._ “Bastards.”

They only purred and — fuck, couldn’t help it. So did he.

.o.O.o.

Every day after that Vesemir joined them for at least an hour or so, so that Baby Wolf could snuggle up and get his fill. They were both happier for it — Lambert sulked a little less (there was still the cold to contend with after all) and Papa Wolf, as it turned out, could be down right funny when he felt like it. Aiden almost sort of maybe saw what Guxart saw in him.

Still, nothing could have prepared Aiden for what happened a few weeks after Yule. 

It was night, around the time they usually went to bed. Baby Wolf had been bouncing off the walls all day, shooting nervous glances at Aiden, biting and snapping at Wolf Wolf and Bear Wolf for no reason. When they reached the beginning of the corridor that led to the former’s room, Lambert grabbed the Cats wrist, jerking him back.

“What is it?” Aiden asked, more concerned than anything; it’d been sometime since his baby wolf was so nervous around him.

“I want to sleep in Vesemir’s room tonight,” Lambert blurted out, glancing quickly at Aiden and darting away again.

“Okay.” Judging by the way Eskel’s hand was on Geralt’s arse, they weren’t going to sleep in Wolf Wolf’s room anyway. Aiden could definitely pass the night alone. He’d be f—

“I want you to come with me,” the younger man mumbled.

_That_ was… surprising. “Are you sure?”

Baby Wolf nodded slightly — shyly, still not looking at him. A few wisps of the smell like sour milk curled in the air, so Aiden took his hand, and squeezed it gently. “Let’s go then.”

A s they walked, Lambert’s scent shifted from anxious to excited, and Aiden couldn’t help but smile. “He knows we're coming,” Baby Wolf explained as he pushed open the heavy door to Vesemier’s rooms and led him up the stairs behind the desk to Papa Wolf’s sleeping quarters. He knocked twice in warning before going inside. Dropping Aiden’s hand, he slipped into the bed, cuddling close to a waiting Vesemir. “Aiden can stay, right?” He asked softly, looking up at the old Wolf.

“Right.” He looked at Aiden as he spoke, half apologetic and half challenging. Aiden didn’t break as he slid into the bed on Lambert’s other side.

Baby Wolf turned to look at him, his eyes open and vulnerable. It’s a look he’d seen many times, when they were alone together, in quiet places, when it felt like they had all the world and all of time to themselves. But here, now, in this strange new something, it pulled at Aiden’s heartstrings more acutely. “Is this okay?” He asked in that same, small voice he spoke to Papa Wolf in. 

“Yeah Lamb,” Aiden said, cupping Lambert’s jaw and stroking his cheek with his thumb, “it’s okay.”

Baby Wolf turned back around, nuzzling into Vesemir’s chest even as he pulled Aiden’s arm tight around him. “Good night,” he said quietly.

“Good night darling boy,” Papa Wolf said, kissing his crown and nosing at his hair.

Aiden kissed the back of his neck, and settled in for the night. “Good night Baby Wolf.”


End file.
